


Identity Crisis

by LZClotho (LZielinsky)



Series: Ronnie Cook BP [1]
Category: Boston Public
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Coming Out, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploring Sexuality, F/F, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, One Night Stand, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23718862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LZielinsky/pseuds/LZClotho
Summary: Ronnie Cook, fresh off her world-shaking one night stand with the enigmatic actress of a play(Tea at Five Twisted)decides she needs to figure it out. Is she attracted to women in general, or was it just one in particular? She sets out to explore the LGBTQ world of clubs and bars to find her answers. A night out on party boat in Boston Harbor answers quite a few of her questions.
Relationships: Ronnie Cook (Boston Public)/OFC
Series: Ronnie Cook BP [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708378
Kudos: 1





	Identity Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows **[Tea at Five Twisted](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706776)** but takes places entirely in the Boston Public universe. It begins Ronnie's journey from "strictly straight" to "bisexual" and eventually will take her into the arms of a long-lasting love. There are four (so far) stories in this branch off from the Twisted Tea series. I hope you will enjoy.

**Disclaimers:**  
  
This story is fiction. Ronnie Cook is borrowed from "Boston Public." If you are reading forward from "Twisted Tea" you know that she had a torrid encounter with someone who is a real person. Since she is "recovering" from that encounter, it is mentioned. But I do not think this qualifies as actor fic. Ronnie and her fellow teachers and staff from Winslow High belong to David E. Kelley et al, who created and wrote Boston Public.  
  
**Content Disclaimers:**  
  
This story features same-sex explicit action between consenting adult women. If you don't like that idea, DO NOT READ THIS STORY.

Identity Crisis 

by LZClotho

(c) 2003

Ronnie was certain her shame showed in her face. She felt sick to her stomach every time she looked at her students.

 _Some role model I am, seducing a married woman from right under her husband._ She was caught between worrying what Tim was doing to Kate right now, and trying to completely avoid the memories that just thinking Mulgrew's name evoked. Grading papers now at the end of school was not helping. She had 28 quizzes on “Tea at Five” to get through. The format she had chosen was presenting pivotal lines from the play, and asking the students for short essays on the background, biographical context, and psychology of each statement.

She wanted desperately to chuck the whole lot out of her second story window, putting the episode behind her as quickly as possible. But her work ethic stomped all over that. The papers would not grade themselves.

“God, why did I have to give in?” she muttered, for the moment giving up and covering her face with her hands as Mulgrew's husky voice yet again growled the words on the page in her memory, causing hot fire to course like quicksilver through Ronnie's veins.

Shooting to her feet in a vain attempt to escape the memories, Ronnie caused the air around her to disrupt the stack of papers, sending them airborne. The sight of the fluttering mess brought unstoppable tears to her eyes. “Damn!”

Ronnie crouched to collect the papers, only to sink desolately to the floor, her head and back supported against the desk. The image of Kate's delicate and petite body writhing, and her husky voice gasping Ronnie's name over and over again, tormented her. Her fingers tingled, recalling the unique satin feel of feminine skin under her touch.

The novelty of her first same sex experience was not wearing off. It seemed only to be getting stronger. The blond began to fear for her sanity.

“Ronnie?”

Ronnie froze at the sound of Marilyn Sudor's voice at her classroom doorway. Wondering how much she could be seen, sitting there on the far side of her desk, Ronnie dropped her chin, brushed quickly at her cheeks, swallowed, and answered, “Over here, Marilyn.”

The English teacher stepped inside Ronnie's classroom as Ronnie stood and turned to face her. “What happened in here?” Marilyn asked.

“I dropped the kids papers.”

“You want a hand picking them up?”

Ronnie shook her head. Besides the fact that Marilyn's hands were full, she wanted to be left alone for a little while, to contemplate the changes her life seemed to be undergoing. “No, I've got it.” Her voice was off, however, and Marilyn noticed.

“Hey, are you all right?”

“I'm fine. Been a long week.”

“You wanna go out? Have a beer?”

“Why would you ask me?” While Marilyn had been friendly toward Ronnie in a reserved way, the experienced teacher had not made social gestures previously. Ronnie disliked being someone's 'project', and she was suspicious that Marilyn was being solicitous.

Marilyn's brow furrowed then she shrugged. “I just thought you could use a drink.”

“I look that bad, huh?”

“Yeah, you do. You do know nothing here is worth crying over, right?”

“Nothing here,” Ronnie admitted, now letting herself relax.

“Guy troubles?” Marilyn ventured.

Ronnie tossed her head. “I wish.”

“Come on, clean up, and let's blow this place,” Marilyn suggested.

Watching Ronnie collect the papers, Marilyn asked, “You dating anybody right now?”

Ronnie shook her head, tucked the papers inside her briefcase. “No. And I'm not interested in being fixed up.” She had watched Marilyn's face change subtly. “So stop getting that gleam in your eye,” she warned.

“What gleam?”

“'What gleam?' she says.” Ronnie lifted her right hand and pointed with exaggeration. “That one. Right there. Yes. That's the one,” she finished as Marilyn's face glowed with a smile.

Marilyn laughed. “Hey, I'm the one supposed to be making you smile.”

Ronnie then smiled slowly, letting the lighthearted banter take her mind away from her troubles.

“Okay. Good. It still works.” Marilyn preceded Ronnie out of the classroom. After locking the door, Ronnie and Marilyn went downstairs, and locked their belongings in their cars before deciding to walk the three blocks to the bar. All around them, slowly, Boston nightlife drowned out the silence which lay between them.

Ronnie appreciated the noise since she could not think with the blaring horns, racing engines, and the distracting smell of fuel in her nostrils. Marilyn also could not ask the questions Ronnie saw perched in her eyes during the occasional glances the dark-skinned woman shot her.

She opened herself to feeling a little better. Maybe if she let life carry her for a little while, she might forget the utter emptiness left by her one-night stand.

# # #

“That's your third drink,” Marilyn advised.

Ronnie studied the tumbler of rum and coke, watching the light filter through the swirls of rum. Then she downed the last of the drink, holding the sweetness of the rum on her tongue. It didn't wash away the memory of how Kate's essence had tasted on her lips, and she was beginning to consider reckless things to fulfill the craving.

“Ronnie, come on. Talk to me. If you are not drowning your sorrows over some man, you're giving a damn good impression of it.”

Ronnie turned her head, gazing into the brown of Marilyn's eyes, and finding her stomach twisting with uncertainty. “Marilyn?”

“Yeah?”

“For the last time, it is not a man. All right?” Ronnie tapped the bar top, and studied the glass as the bartender refilled it. The lighting cut through the liquid splitting it into mahogany hues. _Just like her hair..._ “Marilyn, what is your type?”

“My type?”

“Yes. Hair color? Eyes? Muscles? You like someone a little bookish? Maybe a tight little a...?”

Marilyn clamped her hand over Ronnie's mouth. “God, why did I have to play Samaritan tonight? Jesus, Ronnie!”

Ronnie inhaled the scent of Marilyn's hand over her mouth. It was different, but it was clearly arousing Ronnie the way small delicate fingers brushed against her left cheek, and the soft pad of Marilyn's thumb circled on her right cheek. Ronnie's groin clenched. Unchecked by sobriety, she felt herself lean into the contact.

Marilyn hand jerked away. Ronnie's gaze turned, and she finally blinked in awareness at the shock on Marilyn's features. “I think maybe we should get you a cab,” Marilyn said.

Realizing what she had almost done, Ronnie nodded in agreement, subdued now. “Guess I am too tired.” She swished the stirrer in her drink and then pushed the tumbler away from her place at the bar. She fished through her purse for her wallet.

Marilyn's hand slipped over hers, freezing Ronnie in place. “I'll cover this,” she said. “Just go home, and sleep off this weird mood of yours, okay?”

Ronnie stood slowly.

“Okay?” Marilyn asked again.

“Yeah. Sorry. Thanks for the drinks, Marilyn. I owe you.”

“When you're ready to talk about it, let me know, okay?”

Ronnie shook her head. Leaving Marilyn behind at the bar, Ronnie walked through cacophony of drinkers, smokers, and the hetero date scene, surprised by her unconscious classification. Out on the street, she finally looked up, searching for a cab.

She certainly had a hell of a lot of thinking to do, uncertain the experience with Mulgrew just past was the one-shot experiment as she had tried to define it.

# # #

Sliding into the back seat of the cab, Ronnie was still trying to figure out what to do when the cab driver asked, “Where to?”

Looking back at the bar, Ronnie decided there was only one way to find out what she was doing. “Take me to the nearest lesbian bar.”

The cab driver cast a look over his shoulder at her. She squared her shoulders. He did not voice whatever comment or question had obviously sprung to his mind. “Sure. Fine.” He looked at the street signs.

Within five minutes, which surprised Ronnie that they were still so close to Winslow, he was pulling up outside an innocuous facade. “Here you go.”

He wouldn't look back at her. Ronnie looked at the meter readout, and passed forward the necessary bills. “Thanks.”

“Damn shame,” he said under his breath.

Ronnie stepped out, looked up to the sign, reading under her breath, “The Midway Cafe.” _Hmm. Okay_. She looked at the people walking past, wended her way through, and soon stood at the doorway, looking at the direct gaze of a tall, thick-shouldered male. A sign next to him, which Ronnie found after tearing her eyes from his, alerted her to the cover charge, and the unfamiliar name of a band performing live that night. Through the doorway she could hear relatively unexceptional music, and reached into her purse.

“Enjoy yourself,” the bouncer said.

“Right.” Armed with meager guts, but a boatload of curiosity, Ronnie stepped inside, and oriented herself. The interior space seemed large, about 1300 square feet. The bar, which looked well-stocked, and well-kept, took up all of the far right wall. Filling the space to her immediate left were two pool tables. A doorway led to more space in the back. She could see small tables, two to three seats apiece. The live music also seemed to be coming from the back.

Pad in a hand, a waitress in a ribbed tank, and hi-cut shorts, crossed her path. The woman's hair was cropped short, feathered on the sides, dark. She studied Ronnie with clear appreciation. “Start with a drink?”

 _What should she order?_ Wanting to keep her head a little bit, but aware that lack of a drink would make her stick out, she decided she could sip slowly on a beer. There seemed to be a predominance of bottles with the same label. As long as it wasn't a black beer, she decided it would be all right, naming it for the waitress.

“Have a seat. I'll find you.” Ronnie caught the woman's gaze drop again and realized she had just been propositioned.

After the waitress dragged herself away, Ronnie realized she had a lot of other attention. Wrapping her usual mantle of self-assurance that kept most men at a discreet ogle however had the opposite effect here. Interest seemed to sharpen instead.

She began to contemplate the various interested parties while walking through the bar toward the back. There was not a lot of personal space to be had, but Ronnie had been in tighter places in many other bars. She turned, to scoot around a woman bending over to line up a pool shot, and found a black leather-clad rear rubbed into her pelvis. When she shifted her gaze, she found the possessor of said rear end smirking up at her.

Ronnie registered her would-be suitor as a slender woman, probably just 5'6”, with cropped short blond hair, green eyes in a thin suntanned face, and muscular body poured into skin-tight leather. Shaking her head, Ronnie stepped around the body, intent on losing herself in the next room.

She had seen the tables from the entrance, and now saw that the tables ringed a space before the band designated for dancing.

And completely full of writhing, jockeying women's bodies. All variety of shapes, sizes, and ages moved around the dance floor, changing partners with clear moves, familiar moves.

Having really expected something completely unfamiliar, Ronnie was struck by the similarities of other bars where she had been. Except for the fact that the bodies bumping and grinding, and cat-calling to one another amid the music were all female, Ronnie could have been in any one of Boston's other bars, surrounded by regular patrons. Though there seemed a higher predominance of smokers in this crowd. She coughed a little as she passed through the puffs circling over one of the tables where a trio of women were in deep conversation about... _diapers?_

Her waitress appeared at her elbow. “Here you go.” Ronnie sat down quickly at the nearest open table, watching the brunette bend over and set the drink on a cardboard coaster. At eye level remained the woman's chest, her top loose enough for Ronnie to see swells of small breasts within.

She looked up to see a smile on the woman's face, and decided she found it, and the woman, attractive. “Thank you.”

“I'll keep your tab at the bar,” the waitress said.

Ronnie lifted her drink, and sipped, nodding in assent.

Her stomach was acting a little nervous, but between the music, which was a nice mix of 80s retro being covered by the live band, and the general chatter, Ronnie decided it was a pretty normal sort of hangout. Then again, had she really expected lesbians were all biker chicks with bold tattoos and black leather?

That reminded her of the woman at the pool table. Glancing around casually she spied the woman snuggled up to the bar, one elbow on the table, hand caressing a tall bottle of beer, and the other caressing the rather nice hips and rear of the short slender redhead at her side. They were chatting and kissing, sharing a cigarette at times, and soon Ronnie could see the signs that hot and heavy activity was on their minds.

She followed the couple with her eyes as they abandoned their drinks, and moved to the dance floor, bodies stroking against one another, and began grinding to the rhythms among the other dancers.

Ronnie was getting warm just watching as the two traded kisses and caresses. When the leather-clad blond grasped her partner's hips from behind, spooning against her, Ronnie recalled to mind laying in bed with Kate's hips cradled into her own pelvis...

She stroked down Kate's bare hips, cupped around the woman's heated center, and stroked inside the warmth, Kate's scent rising up to envelope both of them.

Now her own arousal reached Ronnie's nostrils.

The waitress stood over her shoulder when Ronnie had collected herself a little bit, deciding she better leave. “You want some company?”

“Uh. No, I... Just my tab. Time to go.” Ronnie looked up startled. Their gazes caught and held.

“You're missing somebody,” she said. “I can tell.” The waitress took the opportunity to sit down. “I'm on a break. Name's Val.”

“Hello, Val. I'm not staying.”

“Oh, come on. Anyone can see you're new on the scene. And already heartbreak's caught ya.” Val looked around. “Ain't anybody here though. So,” she turned back. “What's your name?”

Ronnie studied the woman's face, and decided maybe she needed a 'guide' of sorts. _All right then..._ “Ronnie.”

“So... Ronnie, you do like women, right?”

“Well,” Ronnie exhaled. “I had this... experience, encounter... something.” She frowned. “It was... pretty good.” Val chuckled. “All right, it was pretty amazing.”

Val nodded. “Yeah. So you wanted to see if you really are...” She pointed to leather-lady. “You like Kim over there?”

“You mean, great body?” Ronnie studied Kim. “Yeah, she's definitely got one.” She recalled the come-on when she had entered. “Pretty forward too.”

“Hey, come to a bar, and get picked up,” Val laughed. “Not in your plan?”

 _Was it?_ Ronnie studied the ice in her glass for a long moment. “Not tonight.”

Val made a small frown then she brightened. “Do you like to dance?”

“I do.”

Reaching across the table, Val grasped her hand. “So do I.”

“But I...”

“This isn't a come on. I think you need a little comparison shopping. Whoever took hold of you... her memory needs a little competition.”

Ronnie doubted anyone could compare to Kate Mulgrew in either the long, or short term, but she couldn't seem to find a graceful way to exit. And she did like Val's looks, like to dance, and maybe she could wear herself out enough to sleep – alone – tonight. “All right.” She stood up, and let Val lead her out on the dance floor. Val nodded once to the band, and as the current song concluded, they played something slow and, of similar heights, Ronnie found herself moving easily against another woman.

 _It wasn't Kate, but it wasn't half bad either_ , she realized. Her questions about herself were starting to be answered.

# # #

Steven Harper was waiting for Ronnie as she entered Winslow High School's main doors Monday morning.

"Ronnie," he called to her.

She shifted to his side of the corridor, and stopped in front of her boss. "Hello, Steven."

"I've got something for you," he said.

No 'have a nice weekend?' she thought with some surprise, but followed him through the front office, past the service counter, and to the door with the glass inset labeled 'PRINCIPAL' in black block lettering.

Once inside, Steven moved around behind his desk, rifling a few papers before coming up with a small envelope. "It came to the school's general address, but it's addressed to you," he prefaced, handing it to her.

Her name, and the school's name were written in a smooth script, nothing hurried about the various strokes and loops. Then obviously filled in by someone else, the school's address was written with different pen, in a blocky all-caps print.

Ronnie turned the envelope over to find it sealed. Harper hadn't opened it. A fact she was glad of when she finally gave in to the pulse thrumming faster in her throat, and trimmed open the top with a nail, withdrawing the folded notecard. Between the "Dear Ronnie," and the "K" which served as a signature, Ronnie's throat seized up, and the words blurred. She bit her lip to contain its shaking.

Quickly with the note still unread, she folded the note back over, and slid it back inside the envelope.

"Thank you note?" Harper asked.

"Something like that," Ronnie mumbled. She turned for the door.

"Hang on to those," he said. "They can make the job worthwhile."

Ronnie nodded. She couldn't smile back. Not now. A whole weekend devoted to forgetting had just been nullified by one tiny note.

Outside in the corridor, she wondered if she should ever read the whole thing. Val, her new friend from Midway, would certainly advise her against it. "Why dredge up all that pain for yourself?" A fan of the clean break that gal, Ronnie thought with a smile.

Her hand with the note hovered briefly over the opening of a trash canister. Then, still too large a part of Ronnie's heart said 'no'. She would at least find out what Kate had to say. Later.Ronnie tucked the note into her coat pocket.

After dancing and drinking a little more with Val on Friday night until Midway closed at 3 a.m. Saturday, Ronnie had taken a cab home and slept until nearly 1 p.m. when Val called Ronnie's cell phone, the number Ronnie had given cautiously as the night lengthened.

She knew she had told Val more than she intended, but the other woman was a surprisingly good listener, and answered several of Ronnie's questions. Though for the most pressing, whether she had taken advantage of Kate (she'd pointedly left out last names), or Kate had taken advantage of her, Val was circumspect.

"A little of both, probably. Experimenting is a high all its own."

Val's frankness was refreshing. Ronnie had since begun to imagine what another experience might be like. Not necessarily with someone exactly like Kate.

Hungry for more information, Ronnie had returned to Midway Cafe to find it was Val's night off. She hung around anyway, reveling in her body's reactions to the various types of women throughout the place.

Kim, identified by Val on Friday, was 'on the hunt' once again, sharing drinks with a different woman than the other night. As Val had pointed out, there was something to be said for experimentation. "Find out what types you like, not just sex, but the women too."

Ronnie had not ventured toward Kim on Saturday night, but had begun imagining how she might approach the green-eyed leather-clad blond. There would be no comparisons with Kate there, Ronnie was certain. Her dreams left her blood heated well into Sunday morning. So distracting were the images of the two of them together that Ronnie gave her imagination a rest, not stopping in at Midway the next day. Instead she spent the rest of Sunday cleaning her apartment, and catching up on laundry. She fell asleep exhausted just after midnight.

Settling in now at her desk, Ronnie settled her coat over the back of her chair, and pulled out the sheaf of lesson plans she had been working on the previous week. She studied the notes, pages, and sections she would be covering with the students, but the numbers blurred together. She just could not keep her mind on her task until she knew.

Until she knew what Kate had written. Gingerly she fished for the envelope in her coat pocket.

"Hey, Ronnie."

Ronnie jumped at the sound of Danny's voice in her doorway.

"A three day hangover huh?" he chuckled. "Gotta get me some of that."

"Something I can do for you, Danny?" Ronnie asked.

"Nah, just thought I'd shoot the breeze. See ya at lunch."

"Right." Ronnie exhaled, and started to lift out the envelope again when she saw more movement at the doorway, and heard the first bell signalling the start of the school's day.

# # #

The school seemed to take forever. Not willing to risk anyone seeing any reactions, good or bad, which she might have to Mulgrew's note, Ronnie knew she would have to wait until she was completely alone.

It quickly became clear that would never happen on school grounds. Two minutes after fetching coffee from the teacher's lounge at the start of her planning period, Ronnie had just locked her room door and settled at her desk when Scott Guber, Winslow's assistant principal, summoned her to his office through her public address speaker.

Once again she tucked away the note, and pushed her mind back to business.

Ronnie had spent the rest of her planning period being read the riot act for her lack of up-to-date paperwork. Lesson plans, required to be filed weekly for the school board's audits, were behind schedule by two weeks. "You have until Monday to have them on my desk," he told her.

It wasn't likely she would be dismissed, but the lack of preparedness presented an image Ronnie didn't want. The missing lesson plans were ones she would have worked on, had she not been pursuing personal issues this past weekend. That reminded her again of the note. The need to put this experience behind her became more urgent. Ronnie had never let her love life interfere with work.

Harry and Zach, both former teachers at Winslow, and even Matthew before them, her compatriot at the law firm, had all wished aloud that she could cut slack a little. However, as her poor judgement with making out with Zach on school grounds had proved, she lost all perspective when the two realms mingled. Catching the young science teacher after she had a student stay late to make up work, she realized perturbed, she had gone from giving a test, to giving head.

Appalled at herself, she had immediately broken the relationship off with Zach.

Now, less than a month later, she had once again done something appalling, when she should have been focused on work.

"I have to stop this," Ronnie berated herself. Maybe becoming a eunuch? What did they call female eunuchs anyway?

She looked up from brushing her hair back from her face and stared in disbelief at the darkness outside her window. God, it was that late? A glance at her watch confirmed it was after 6 p.m.

The papers on her desk were graded -- she hoped correctly, because she didn't recall reading a single word.

Ronnie collected her lesson planning book, and the main objective sheets she drew up for each chapter to give to students. Between the two sources, she could quickly insert all the necessary Massachussetts Board of Education standards in the proper forms. Guber would be ecstatic if she turned in the whole stack before the deadline.

Not to mention Ronnie would feel better about herself.

Tugging on her coat, she left Winslow, walking quickly and quietly through the darkened corridors.

She went for her car keys in her coat pocket, finding the envelope once again. Inhaling to steady herself, she put her things in her trunk, opened her door, and sat down. To the glow of the roof light she plucked out the note to read:

_Dear Ronnie --_

_I don't know what you must think of me. Our time together came to such an abrupt end. When you walked out, Tim stood between us. I was rooted to the spot. Are you disappointed that I didn't follow? Or relieved? Would you want to know that I wanted to leave with you? I've never had a man, or woman who became as quickly or totally, a part of my life, as you._

_I have a life that won't let me go. Tim and I talked, and I realized I couldn't leave. Though now I understand what is missing._

_Thank you. Two words don't seem to say much. At least not the way they so often come out, tossed off, a rote politeness in a society so bare of it otherwise. So I'll add that Boston will always mean Ronnie Cook to me._

_~KM_

The bold strokes of Kate's initials seared themselves on Ronnie's heart. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. Leaning her forehead against the steering wheel, she gripped it, crumpling the note in her left fist in the process. Stemming the flood of tears was impossible for a long time. Finally, when the backs of her hands, and the note and envelope were all damp, Ronnie could lift her head and blink away the last drops.

 _Oh God_. She hadn't expected that Kate would tell her she was coming after her. But she also hadn't expected to be told so unequivocally how unbreakable their connection had felt to the other woman. It was a declaration of love, without the actual words barred by a convention to which Kate still accepted she was bound.

Ronnie exhaled and hiccuped then inhaled the crisp cold night air. Turning over her car engine, she let it idle a moment as the last shudders faded. She looked again at the note. Her tear stains blurred some of the words now. Smoothing the paper and refolding it carefully, she tucked it back in its envelope, and back into her coat pocket.

Numb, she drove home on mental auto-pilot.

# # #

Ronnie's cell phone rang the next morning as she entered Winslow. Who on earth...? She fumbled for the small device, nearly dropping it and wished she had thought to grab a cup of coffee first. "Hello?"

"Hey there. It's Val."

Ronnie froze. Skip that, a whole expresso. "Um. Hey. What... what's up?"

"You sound still in bed."

"No. I'm at work."

"Are you teaching right this minute?"

"No." Ronnie ducked her gaze away from watching Marilyn stepping inside Winslow's front doors. Covering an ear, she turned into the wall to talk privately.

"Dana and I were just talking about something fun."

Ronnie could just hear another woman's voice in the background. Val was obviously still with the woman she had likely picked up the night before. "What's on your mind?"

"You ever take a harbor cruise?"

"No."

"Some of the girls from the club are getting together this weekend. Would you like to come?" There was another chuckle in the background and Ronnie heard the faint sound of flesh connecting with a playful slap. Val whispered, "Stop that."

A cruise huh? "Just for a day?"

"Yeah, and a night too. Saturday. We'd come ashore Sunday morning. Just in time for church."

Ronnie's brows drew together. "I... have a project I need to finish actually."

"It's only Tuesday. You sure?"

"Well..." Ronnie gave it serious thought. She really needed to finish the lesson plans for Scott Guber's endless files. However, the water had always appealed to her. And the chance to cruise the Charles River with some of the women from Midway...and maybe a few who don't regularly do that scene,she thought with a deepening interest. "Put me down for a 'maybe'. I'll call by Friday noon either way."

"Fair enough. Hope to hear from you. Have a good day."

"You too," Ronnie responded rotely as Val disconnected. She looked up, suddenly a little disoriented, and looked around to see no one paying any particular attention to her.

Then she realized what she felt was unease.

Get a grip, she ordered herself. It's not like you were having phone sex.

Passing Steven Harper though as she made her way to her classroom, Ronnie wondered what his reaction would be if he ever learned she went weekend cruising with a boat full of lesbians.

The sudden image of his shocked expression gave her lips a twitch, and Ronnie found herself softly chuckling as she ascended the stairs.

# # #

The bell signalling class change interrupted Ronnie mid-sentence. She sat on the leading edge of her desk answering Ralph's question abou ttheir current reading assignment.

All the students shuffled their boks and papers to their bags as Ronnie cut herself off knowing they weren't listening any longer. Over the din of lunch and afterschool plan-making, she imparted only one reminder:

"The homecoming pep rally is Friday at 7 p.m. Don't forget to come out and cheer the teacher-student challenges."

"Are you participating, Ms. Cooke?"

Ronnie, who had shouted the reminder over her shoulder while revising the notes on her blackboard, turned to see Natalie standing beside her desk. "Yes, I signed up for the dodge ball battle."

Natalie beamed suddenly. "I'll see you there."

"Yeah?" Ronnie smiled, interested in her shyest student's implication. "Are you competing?"

The girl ducked her head and brushed short straight brown locks from her face before looking back up. "I can't shoot free throws, but I figured I could hit a teacher or two."

Ronnie laughed at the phrasing. "We're bigger targets?"

Natalie nodded sheepishly. "Yeah. So you better watch out."

Ronnie's smile went soft. She was so proud of Natalie, who was slowly emerging from the self-imposed distance from her peers since Ronnie had helped her and her mother find a place to stay. "No mercy?" she teased, feeling it was possible now. Indeed she was rewarded by a glimmer of fire shining back from brown eyes when Natalie shook her head. "Good. Now you better get moving before you're late."

When Ronnie followed Natalie's progress out, she met Marilyn's gaze as the other teacher stepped into her room.

"What's up, Marilyn?" Ronnie leaned with both hands planted on her desk and looked up at the dark skinned woman's smooth face, and realized it was pensive.

"You've got planning next, right?" Marilyn asked.

"Yeah. Need something?"

"Could you cover my class? Steven's got a parent who is demanding a PT conference right now."

"Now?" Ronnie straightened as pensive turned anxious in Marilyn's features. She put a hand on Marilyn's shoulder and rubbed gently. "Don't worry about it," she said with full confidence, hopefully conveying some to her friend. "I'll cover your class. Do you know what it's about?"

"Athlete with a failing grade."

"So he can't play unless you change it?" Ronnie clarified with understanding. She too had been challenged similiarly. Marilyn taught generally advanced kids and didn't encounter the conflict that often. It probably made her feel the same though -- miserably, like she had done something wrong. "You've done nothing wrong," Ronnie pointed out. "And Steven will support you."

The confidence injection seemed to have the desired effect. Marilyn straightened a little. "Yeah. You're right."

"Well then get going, and... give 'em hell," Ronnie encouraged. She nudged the sweater-covered shoulder. Marilyn's hand skimmed over hers before both their hands dropped, and she left Ronnie alone again.

Ronnie's hand curled into a fist, capturing the recent sensations against her palm and fingers. She was aware how keenly she had felt the shift of muscles under Marilyn's skin. Her awareness had immediately to compare it to the feel of Kate, and then Val, and Ronnie inhaled with anxiety. She was beginning to feel distinctly oversexed and in need of release. She would definitely have to call Val, and accept the invitation to cruise that weekend.

Grabbing her roll book, with the small stack of worksheets to grade, Ronnie left her classroom, locking it behind her.

# # #

It was sunset on the Charles River. Ronnie Cook leaned with outward nonchalance on the railing of an 80-foot 2-deck party boat, a plastic champagne flute cupped in her hands. Alternately she looked at the sky blazing with reddish-purple streaks of light, and the sunset's reflection in the rippling and dark waters of the river.

An hour ago she had met Val at a smal port building, relieved and chuckling that she had finished her work in time and been able to make the trip. The energized Val had told her she would have a "fantastic" time, and then led her through a short maze of the other buildings on the docks, and up onto the gangway for the boat, Les Triumphante.

A sea of women had already been aboard as Ronnie made her way into the throng. Tossed a few greetings, Ronnie had been pleased after looking around at the other women, that she had apparently chosen the proper level of attire, business informal. She wore a peach v-neck sweater, her throat accentuated with a single silver chain, and long white slacks with closed toe white sandals.

There was a buffet set up on the lower deck. One half of the large area was a dance floor, the other half of the guests circled around a drink bar. She found herself awkwardly moving from conversation to conversation, frequently listening in, but finding little of interest to chime in, or that her own thoughts might be unwelcome by the quite liberal positions.

Maybe I should've stuck with Val, Ronnie thought. But the other woman, though at first introducing Ronnie around, had quickly 'hooked up' for the weekend apparently enjoying the attentions from a spicy-looking Latin named Maria. The looks Ronnie had received were clearly of the 'you should move on' variety. Val had only offered a distracted 'have a good time' as Ronnie moved to the small bar, and requested the special she had heard the woman in front of her order, a drink full of swirling color the bartender had called a "Rainbow Sunrise." Then she nodded her thanks, paid her money, and escaped to the top deck.

The top deck was open and breezy, and populated it seemed by couples. The pairs of women walked leisurely around the deck engrossed in quiet, intimate conversations. She had made eye contact with a few, but no one moved to talk to her.

Maybe I'm just not cut out for this,Ronnie thought sullenly. Dating wasn't a problem usually. It was the unattached searching between that she could do without. She tended, she realized, to stumble over her prospects. Brad, Michael, Harry, Josh and, she admitted, definitely Kate.

_Do I even know the games?_

Solemnly she downed the remains of her drink and studied the refracting moonlight through the curved surface.

"Hello."

Ronnie turned her head to see a woman with brown curly hair in a ponytail. She wore a half-smile under light brown eyes. Her outfit was a braided blue wool turtleneck and dark blue, perhaps even black, slim-fit jeans and cross-trainer athletic shoes. Ronnie had seen almost no jeans among the attendees and wondered at the woman's choice before her. Then she noticed the woman looked a bit younger than most of the other cruisers, probably not yet thirty years old.

Returning her gaze to the woman's face, Ronnie was surprised to see the woman's smile had widened . "Hello," Ronnie finally replied.

"Do you do that to everyone?" the woman asked.

"What?"

"Frisk them with your eyes." The woman held open her arms, palms facing toward Ronnie. "No weapons." She then hooked her thumbs onto the edges of her jean pockets.

She seemed to be waiting for a response, but Ronnie suddenly was at a loss, disarmed by the suggestion she was unapproachable. "I... um, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was... doing that," she finished lamely.

The woman's smile returned slowly and Ronnie found herself watching the mobile and expressive face with interest. What would she say next?

"You've got something of a 'deer in headlights' look about you a lot of the time." Ronnie's eyes widened. She looked afraid? "I've seen you at Midway," the other woman explained. "Val invited you on the cruise, right?"

Ronnie nodded.

"Slept with her yet?"

Ronnie blinked, again disarmed, and shook her head. "We've talked. I'm not her type."

"She yours?"

"My type? No, I..." Ronnie closed her eyes briefly and as she opened them again, admitted, "I don't know that I have a type." She decided to turn the tables a bit defensive in her discomfort. "You?"

Her companion leaned backward against the railing bracing against the surface with her forearms, hands now crossed over her stomach. "Women who like to have fun." Brown eyes lifted, and an eyebrow rose further to accentuate the coming question. "Do you?"

"Within reason I guess," Ronnie replied. "What do you like to do?"

"I play softball on the Rainbow league, and I scull for Harvard's squad."

Ronnie smiled. "I graduated Harvard Law."

"Do any sports?"

"A little running." Ronnie tried to turn the conversation. "What are you studying at Harvard?"

"Pretty dry stuff," the other woman skirted.

"I'm curious," and Ronnie was surprised to note she truly was. She turned toward the other woman, leaning on the railing now with one elbow, and that lowered her tall posture just enough to bring her to the same eye level as her companion.

Answering with a very dry tone, as if to say, 'I'm going to regret this', the woman did answer. "I'm a fourth year student in biomedical engineering."

Ronnie, however, was no intellectual slouch, and did at least know one hot topic to which that field of study could apply. "Are you in stem cell research?"

"No. Gene therapy." Her insight paid off when her companion smiled. "Particularly disease therapy. I'm impressed. Most people's eyes glaze over."

Ronnie decided that warranted granting the woman her name. "My name's Ronnie."

"I'm Elizabeth. What do you do?"

Now it was Ronnie's turn to expect a poor reaction. "Promise me no pity looks?"

"Hey, would I do that?"

Ronnie then answered the question. "I'm a high school teacher."

"With a law degree?"

She sighed. There was that surprise again. "I was in corporate law practice for a while. I like teaching more."

"Yeah, but comparatively speaking, the pay's pretty much crap."

Ronnie nodded. "Yeah, and your point? You're not likely studying all those medical concepts strictly for the money either."

Elizabeth blinked. "Bleeding heart here," she admitted. "I'm actually looking forward to my clinicals. Most of my classmates want to stay in the lab."

"Which disease are you most focused on?"

"Cancer."

Ronnie looked off at the water, suddenly surprised by how her memory and emotions wrestled with the singular word.

"Hey?" Elizabeth's hand brushed Ronnie's wrist.

"Sorry. I haven't... thought about that in a long time."

Apparently Elizabeth was familiar with the reaction. Insightfully she asked, "Relative?"

"My grandmother. Breast cancer." Ronnie exhaled.

"It's hereditary, you know. Do you get regular exams?" Ronnie looked surprised. Elizabeth was contrite. "Hey, sorry, doctor in me blurting out there. I'll poke her back to silence."

Ronnie let her smile come back. "I need a refill," she said finally. "Come down with me to get another drink?"

# # #

By midnight, the _Les Triumphante_ floated in relatively open waters. Ronnie only realized the time though when the sound of bells drifted across the quiet waters from one of the many land points shrouded in haze. She and Elizabeth had retrieved second, third and fourth drinks together. The younger woman encouraged Ronnie to try a Fuzzy Navel, and a drink she now couldn't recall the name, which tasted distinctly of butterscotch.

Ronnie saw couples ducking into a doorway along the wall where they currently leaned, sitting on the deck looking out over the gently lapping waves. She had assumed the wall belonged to the wheelhouse, location of the captain and navigational equipment. Now she wasn't so sure. She nudged Elizabeth's shoulder as the younger woman had been looking off in the direction of the midnight bells. "Do you want to go inside?" She indicated where another couple were just moving out of view.

Elizabeth looked at their twin positions, sitting on the deck, backs up against the wall. Had Ronnie nod rubbed her shoulder, the two wouldn't be in contact at all. Each had her free arm wrapped around a bent knee. "I didn't think you were interested," she said.

The light bulb went on, and Ronnie could not stop herself from blushing. "You mean?"

"This is a party boat." Ronnie looked again at the doorway. "Wanna see who's playing tonight?" Elizabeth was suddenly on her feet, discreetly adjusting the crotch of her jeans before offering Ronnie a hand up. "Come on."

The door was only a few feet away now. Feeling absurd, Ronnie almost closed her eyes as Elizabeth led her through the door. Almost. She was too curious quite to manage it.

First she noticed women seemed to cover every available surface. All the couches, chairs, low tables, and the floor had women on them. Some were in various states of undress and nuzzling with a neighbor. Most however watched the 52-inch projection television set on the far wall. It took a change in camera angle for Ronnie to identify a pair of women onscreen, in the throes of passionate lovemaking.

Elizabeth found them seats on the floor, and Ronnie sat, cross-legged at first, eyes roaming the actresses' figures.

One woman was a blonde, the other a brunette and the editing was tasteful. The contact and dialogue about connection and devotion more than sex, though Ronnie did catch a few audience appreciation noises when a long fingered hand slipped down the taut muscles of a fit, feminine stomach.

Her own stomach muscles jumped in response. Elizabeth's voice rumbled against her ear. "Giving you any ideas?"

Ronnie nodded; Elizabeth's lips brushed the left side of her throat. Yeah, she thought. It's giving me an idea just how clueless I am.

But I want to know, she admitted. Letting the alcohol carry her bravery, she turned her gaze from the mesmerizing images and tilted her head down to meet Elizabeth's lips come up.

The soft, sweetly alcohol-flavored lips coaxed her own open. She inhaled, and Elizabeth broke the kiss. The younger woman asked quietly, "Want a more private spot?"

Ronnie provided the answer with a second shorter kiss, filled with the rawness of the passion beginning to fill her, and cupped a soft cheek briefly. She gave a nod. Elizabeth stood again, leading her to a doorway, and down the stairs behind it.

Two flights down they emerged to a corridor lined with doors.

Elizabeth pulled out a flat car from her rear jeans pocket and slid it into a lock which briefly flashed a green LED. The knob gave way in her hand, and she gestured for Ronnie to enter first.

Barely ten by ten, there was a queen-sized bed, a small nightstand with a wash basin on top. Over on the wall was a small porthole through which Ronnie could see the tops of waves.

"We're under the dance deck," Elizabeth explained, coming up behind Ronnie and using her body to cradle the taller woman's back. The contact, warm and erotic as Elizabeth slightly ground her crotch into Ronnie's rear, ignited the alcohol in Ronnie's blood. "Do you want to know what it can really be like, baby?"

Caught in something of a haze, the teacher nevertheless welcomed the opportunity to be the student.

# # #

  
Elizabeth was talkative, occasionally vulgar, but extremely instructive for Ronnie. She discovered what she had previously categorized, from her heterosexual experiences, as the all-too-brief foreplay, could and did bring orgasms all on their own.

Ronnie's partner was was not a fan of penetration, and when Ronnie attempted it, used to the hurried nature of most of her male partners, Elizabeth urged her to "give me some tongue action." To Ronnie's surprise Elizabeth orgasmed several times. Yet she was ready to go again quickly, urging Ronnie around and settling between her thighs to "return the favor."

It was the first time Ronnie recalled peaking without something in her rippling channel for her spasming muscles. Even climax with Kate had only come once either of them had used fingers. The sensation felt as though a dozen birds were inside her, their wings fluttering against her stomach and groin.

She shook and screamed. Elizabeth's tongue continued stroking her on through several smaller waves, and finally to rest.

Ronnie flung her arm over her eyes. Even the shadowed room seemed suddenly too bright, and her eyes watered. She had no idea she could come that hard.

Elizabeth's gradual glide up her body, further sensitizing bits of flesh with tiny nipping kisses almost had Ronnie fully roused again by the time the firmly muscled body settled against hers. A soft thigh rubbed her groin, and she found herself rocking into the pleasure. "Oh God," Ronnie panted.

Elizabeth moved her arm away then, giggled no doubt at Ronnie's dazed expression, and combining deep tongue kisses with her rocking body, soon had Ronnie throbbingly on the brink of orgasm again.

"Good, huh?"

Ronnie blinked. "Now I understand the term 'whitebread sex'. I never realized..."

Elizabeth dipped her head and mouthed Ronnie's left nipple, teasing it with her teeth. "The guys just spent long enough to warm themselves up, huh?"

"And I used to think five minutes was good."

"We've been at it about an hour," Elizabeth surprised her. "I hope though you don't think I'm done." The collegian grinned. "I'm just getting started. Your body is incredible."

Elizabeth stroked down from the other nipple and scratched erotically through the hair covering Ronnie's sex. "If you're still wet in another hour --" Ronnie's eyes widened. "I'll bring out Charlie to finish you off."

"Charlie?"

"Check the nightstand drawer," Elizabeth answered.

Ronnied rolled over, and while Elizabeth fit her pelvis against her rear, opened the indicated drawer. Inside she gazed in surprise on a neon pink vibrator with an attached control for speed adjustment. She squirmed and Elizabeth's fingers slipped against her labia from behind.

A throaty laugh as the fingers withdrew told Ronnie her reaction had not gone unnoticed. Lips began kissing down the back of Ronnie's shoulder. "I'm going to make you laugh at the next man who thinks he can satisfy you." The laughter rolled over Ronnie, as the woman was rolled onto her stomach and nipping kisses covered her rear. She pushed her rear upward, and clutched the sheets as Elizabeth's mouth found her clitoris from underneath. "Oh God," she breathed, inhaling the pure pleasure.

# # #

Elizabeth quickly devolved to "Beth" for the continually aroused Ronnie. Attention to detail did not begin to describe Beth's devotion to seeking out and exploiting every millimeter of Ronnie's intimate flesh. And some not so intimate, Ronnie groaned and panted appreciatively as Beth currently had Ronnie on her stomach while fluttering her tongue in the hollow between bone and muscle at the back of Ronnie's knees.

Ronnie found the possessiveness utterly enthralling and she was still wet and hungry when Beth slipped a finger again inside her sex. "More?" Beth asked. Her hot breath tickled the back of Ronnie's damp neck as her groin rotated provocatively against Ronnie's rear.

All Ronnie could do was beg, "Oh, God, yes."

"Good. Now." Beth paused and rolled her body over Ronnie's, igniting nerve endings everywhere her breasts or mound hairs brushed against Ronnie's body. She felt like she could make love forever. "I want you to pay attention to everything I'm going to do to you. No man will ever pay this kind of attention to your pleasure." Having already learned Ronnie's instant-rocket reactions to coarse language, Beth slowly wiggled two fingers inside Ronnie's expectant channel and cooed, "Your cunt is pure velvet."

Because her vaginal walls fluttered sharply at the evocative words, Ronnie felt every twitch as the two fingers, moving alternately together and separately, seemed intent to crawl right into her belly. "Oh, God," she groaned, arched and panted again.

"Yeah, like a glove," Beth added. Keeping her fingers inside Ronnie, Beth coaxed her onto her back. The flutters continued and Ronnie could not help rocking, arching, gasping as her belly muscles clenched and unclenched rhythmically. She moaned with pleasure as Beth's thumb gently flicked in time over her clit to the pulsations filling her stomach.

While Ronnie watched, leaning back on her elbows, the brown-haired woman leaned forward while continuing to hold Ronnie's gaze until a few inches away, she dropped her gaze, then her head, to suck abruptly and hard on Ronnie's rock-hard right nipple.

Ronnie lurched upward and Beth's fingers began stroking again, this time in rhythm with her sucking Ronnie's nipples, first right then left. Ronnie's moans soon joined the rhythm and she began disconnecting from everything except the fingers inside her, the hot, wet mouth around her nipples, and the soft hair in her hands as she stroked Beth's head.

She felt when Beth introduced a third finger, and her inner walls rippled and released. She threw her head back, moaning and panting for more.

On the edge of her perception, Ronnie saw Beth reach over and open the drawer. Her entire body convulsed on one excited thought, Charlie.

She felt her juices flowing out around Beth's fingers, and grinned as she heard the buzz start near her right ear. She opened her eyes and turned toward the thick phallic toy, able to discern the slight blur of its movement.

It lowered slowly and Beth brushed it lightly across her still hard nipples, laughing throatily when Ronnie arched her back, thrusting her breasts further out. Beth engulfed the left nipple then chewed on the skin surrounding the teat while letting the phallus drift down Ronnie's stomach; her abdominals quaked in anticipation.

When the buzzing toy first brushed up against the inside of Ronnie's right thigh, Ronnie tried to close her thighs and capture its vibration against her skin.

"I have loads more control than some guy only thinking with his dick, Ronnie," Beth whispered then kissed Ronnie as she brushed their nipples together, sending a jolt of pure fire from their touch there to Ronnie's groin where the tip of the phallus was just brushing across the wet outer folds of Ronnie's sex.

Then Beth began a perfectly patient teasing penetration. Ronnie almost went insane with the bulbous head dipping, stroking, retreating and, all the while, vibrating with a slow heart-like throb.

It was about halfway in when her hips surged forward. Beth moved down, told Ronnie to lean back, and sucked Ronnie's clit between her teeth as she pushed the vibrator all the way in.

"Fuck!" After the slow build up, to be full, Ronnie nearly soared into orgasm right that second. "Oh, God... yes," she moaned as Beth plied the tip of her clit with her tongue wiggling it between her teeth. She felt every vibration in her bones as Beth chuckled against her skin. She reached between her thighs and bent her knees higher, opening herself and rocked into Beth's motions.

Over and over again, she moved, and then she continued through while her body crested on wave after wave of orgasm. Beth's tongue moved in and around the dildo then, lapping up juices while Ronnie continued to come.

Eyes closed, Ronnie felt Beth settle over her, their breasts pillowing together. The dildo rested, still vibrating, between their bellies as Beth rocked their pelvises together.

Ronnie reached down, cupped Beth's buttocks and wrapped her legs around behind Beth's knees.

That brought their sexes into direct contact. Beth's labia fluttering against Ronnie's sent the younger woman into orgasm.

Ronnie felt the little drops, warm and silky, slip out of Beth and wet her own mound.

Using her right hand to cup Beth's left breast, Ronnie guided the nipple above her to her mouth and sucked, sustaining Beth's orgasm for several further seconds until the woman collapsed against her.

The dildo rolled away, forgotten, and Ronnie rolled over Beth, sliding her fingers into Beth's folds to feel, and extend, the rippling continuing in the wet, hot center of her lover.

# # #

The crisp air invited her to get out and about. Eschewing her car, Ronnie picked up her school bag, shouldered it, and walked through Boston Commons to the subway station. She even enjoyed watching her breath form small clouds and her strides lengthened and bounced a little. Life was feeling very, very good.

When the subway went overground near the riverside tracks for the cargo trains, Ronnie stood by the window, looking out over the Charles River and up to the hills of Cambridge, thinking of Beth.

Good memories, she thought with a cat-ate-the-canary smile and pushed her hair off her face. She and Beth had emerged from their private play around ten a.m. Sunday morning. After an animated breakfast, meeting more of the women on the party boat over coffee, chilled fruit, jam and rolls, Ronnie had gone home and soaked in the hottest bathwater she could manage, until noon. Not even bothering to dress, she burrowed under her bedcovers for several more hours, sleeping well past her usual early Sunday evening dinner time. Instead she ate reheated leftover casserole standing up -- sitting was still tender -- at her kitchen counter.

That, she remembered, had put her small balcony in view, and turned her quiet mood into a pensive one, as memories of Kate washed through her body and soul.

The doctoral student had been exactly what Ronnie needed on so many levels. Ronnie now accepted she had led an exceptionally vanilla sex life until now, keeping only to male partners. Was she completely on the other side though? She wasn't sure yet, but she knew she would never settle for anything in the bedroom ever again. The liberation she felt with that was incredible.

She understood a little now what made it so hard to go on after encountering Kate. She had just left Kate without sharing words, sharing the understanding she had gained of herself within their brief passion. There had been no closure. Which contrasted deeply with the comfort she felt leaving Beth that morning. While she was unsure if she would see Beth intimately again, they had shared some reflective time, following the passion, and Ronnie knew she would be able to see Beth at future parties, or at Midway, and not feel this demand to speak, to grab, to hold.

However, she was certain that to see Kate again would probably render her immobile, flustered, frustrated... devastated at the smallest distance between them. Just watching the vibrant woman in a rerun of that program of hers -- Ronnie had been flipping through channels Sunday night -- Ronnie had felt a thick fist squeeze her heart.

Doing something she had not done since her teen years, Ronnie had spent the balance of the night writing a letter to Kate. It would be unthinkable to send it. Through any of the normal channels, someone else might read it for the television star. Ronnie found the words baring her soul, sinking deeply into expressing the tumultuous emotions, but coming up breathing deeply with something feeling settled at last. She had tucked the pages away in a nightstand drawer, keepsake of her own precious memories.

As she stepped off the train, onto the platform, just a block south of Winslow, Ronnie lifted her chin at a man's interested regard. She almost laughed aloud as Beth's words came back to her. Ronnie strode confidently to the beckoning doors of the high school, noting for the first time, a weather-worn, half-torn notice on the Student Activities board: GSA meeting Friday, Room 216. She wondered who was the faculty advisor, and if they were 'family'. Not everyone came out, Beth had told her. Ronnie herself wasn't sure she could announce her changes to the world right away. However, Beth had indicated, often you could tell who was, and who wasn't gay. She considered volunteering to cosponsor the group.

"Morning, Ronnie."

Looking up, Ronnie realized met the gaze of Marla Johnson, one of Winslow's history teachers, stood in front of her. "Morning," she replied.

"Are you all right?" the big black woman asked in her high, friendly voice.

Ronnie nodded. "Yes. I just had a long weekend."

"Not ready to be back at school, huh?" Marla walked past her then, into the teacher's mailroom. Automatically Ronnie followed. Marla studied her over her shoulder. "Did you work out this weekend?"

"Why?"

"Cause you're walkin' like how I do after one of my exercise classes."

Ronnie's brow furrowed as she took in the other woman's broad, big-boned frame with generous flesh. Exercise?

"Yes, I exercise," Marla added as though reading Ronnie's mind. "I just ain't no Jane Fonda."

Ronnie laughed; Marla smiled. The two women parted at the bank of cubby holes. Each retrieved the bundle of papers in her box, announcements, fliers, pamphlets -- and colorful Teacher Appreciation cards with a lollipop taped to a message from Student Council.

When Ronnie turned to leave, she saw Marla pop the little treat into her mouth. "Have a good day," she offered.

With a lift of her eyebrows, Marla's lips curled up in a bow-like smile before the woman turned and left the mailroom.

Shaking her head with amusement, Ronnie followed suit, taking the stairs two at a time to her classroom as the halls were now quite crowded with students.

Ronnie made her way to room 216 as Friday's school day came to a close. Shouldering her way through students streaming in the opposite direction, she paused as she realized she had entered the science wing. Looking at 216 then above the door at the name plate, she wondered if she had even met "Mr. Langton." Opening the door she stepped inside.

A roomful of eyes darted to her. "Hi," she said, searching among the faces as everyone seemed to be gathered together in a circle of desks, for an adult face.

"Is there something I can do for you Ms. Cook?" A reed-thin male, with receding hair, and a bit of a hunch to his narrow shoulders, stood up, tucking his hands in the pockets of a pair of khaki dress pants. His collared polo shirt was aquamarine, highlighting surprisingly green eyes.

"You're having a meeting."

"Yes." He smiled. She inhaled and stepped forward. "Interested in sitting in?" he asked, holding out his hand to an empty desk near his own. "We don't stand on formalities here."

"All right." She eased herself into the seat, taking note of the students stares. "I guess then, I'm Ronnie."

As though she were suddenly transported to an AA meeting, Ronnie was suddenly greeted with a raucous chorus of "Hi, Ronnie." While these were students, she also recognized in them a need for the inclusiveness that calling a teacher by their first name might bring.

Mr. Langton, whose first name she learned was Brian, asked students to bring any experiences they wanted 'to the table.' After a while, listening to the teenaged hearts throbbing about first loves, crushes -- which they'd never share with the crushee, and what it felt like to be looked at and have people know you are different, Ronnie knew that sexual issues were the same for all teenagers. They were so ill-informed. Oral sex isn't sex, or so they thought. An hour passed, and Ronnie watched the students leave. She remained behind and tried to decide how best to approach Brian with her observations.

Standing, she drew attention to herself as he turned around from closing his room door. "Ronnie?" he asked. "Something else?"

"I... Do you talk about the actual mechanics in here?" She swallowed, wondering if her forthright question was too forward.

However, Brian only shook his head. "It's their emotions they're worried about. That they think they feel different than the other kids."

"They certainly don't," Ronnie nodded. "Are you afraid some of them will get into trouble with the diseases out there?"

"Some. But I can't discuss it here. Harper allowed the club for their psychological support, but the school has an abstinence policy on sex."

Ronnie asked, "Have you considered taking the club off-campus, so you can discuss it?"

"These kids, many of them, have only the school day to deal with this. Anything outside of school hours and their parents learn about it, or might. And most of them haven't come out yet." He looked pointedly at her. "You have to let that stay that way," he warned. "Don't 'out' these kids out there."

"I wouldn't," but Ronnie was still worried. She was certain at least one or two were engaging in risky sex.

"Isn't that why you came by though. To see 'who else'?"

Ronnie started considering denying it then nodded. "Um... I haven't...been... very long."

Brian nodded. "Okay. Well, hey, I'm headed out to the girls softball game. You want to come along?"

"How long have you been here at Winslow?" she asked finally, following him out his door.

"Just one year."

"This is my second," she said.

"I'll be sure to stop by for any advice," he said lightly.

The two of them walked out the back of Winslow to the baseball field, where they could see and hear that a game was in progress. Shortly Ronnie was climbing into the aluminum stands with a hot dog and a soda. She had to long-step around a middle-aged couple and someone reached out to steady her drink.

"Here, let me help you with that."

Jerking her head up Ronnie almost lost her balance. Behind her Brian put a hand against her mid-back. After her heart stopped racing, Ronnie greeted the familiar face seated where she was going. "Beth."

"Hello," Beth smiled at her.

"What are you doing here?"

Beth explained, "My kid sister plays on the Arlington squad." She tugged Ronnie down onto the bench beside her. Brian settled to Ronnie's other side. "What's your story?" Beth asked Ronnie. "I didn't know you liked softball."

Ronnie debated briefly saying she was Brian's 'date', but shrugged. "I work here."

"This is where you teach?"

Turning slightly, Ronnie introduced Brian. "This is Brian Langton, another teacher here."

"Hi, Brian," Beth said distractedly.

Ronnie glanced down and realized that Beth's hand had slipped from her wrist and now remained on top of Ronnie's thigh.

Observantly, Brian noted, "A friend of yours."

Ronnie nodded and swallowed, aware she was embarrassed and shamed for being so. "Brian, this is Beth Chambers. She's a student at Harvard."

Beth elaborated as she leaned across Ronnie, "Biomedical engineering." She shook Brian's hand. "Nice to meet you."

With their hands hidden by Beth's body, Ronnie extricated hers. Their faces were close together, giving her a claustrophobic sensation. Determinedly she focused her gaze beyond them and was surprised to see Natalie settling to the bench a few rows below them.

Her pleasure at seeing the shy girl out in a social situation doubled as she saw the person she bent close to. The dusty blonde hair was caught under a woolen cap, but the smile was all for Natalie as the girls chattered.

"Ronnie?"

She drew her attention back to her seat mates. "Yes?" She turned to Beth who had spoken.

"You don't look much into the game. Want to go catch a bite to eat?"

"What about your sister?" Ronnie nodded toward the game field.

"Oh, she knows I can only make the beginnings of these things."

That didn't sit well with Ronnie. If she had a sister, or family locally, she would not as flippantly dismiss spending time with them. "I'm not hungry," she declined.

Beth nodded. After a moment she shrugged. "All right. Catch you later."

Ronnie watched Beth maneuver down the bealcers and leave the grounds. Not once did she consider changing her mind and following after the other woman. Guess that's that. She turned back to the game.

Brian leaned close. She kept her eyes forward. His words breathed warm air against her throat. "That has to be the nicest lesbian breakup I have ever seen."

She dropped her gaze to her knees and let her hair hide her face. For which she was grateful as her cheeks heated with embarrassment. "Thanks."

**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you think of new "baby gay" Ronnie? Let me know.


End file.
